The unruly Miami rapper talks about trying to control his hot temper while maintaining his trademark artistic fury, and what to expect from his Def Jam debut.

Just this morning, Gunplay, the 33-year-old Miami rapper born Richard Morales, Jr., apparently evaded a potentially lengthy prison sentence after pulling a gun on his accountant-- on camera, no less-- last April. But the close call isn't causing him to reconsider the powder-keg, take-no-prisoners attitude that has helped him scale the ranks of rap as part of Rick Ross' Maybach Music Group. In January, when I ask him if he's been told to reconsider his rap name amidst the country's current revived gun-control debate, he says yes... and goes on to explain that anyone who presents him with that sort of talk can fuck off.

He's planning on naming his forthcoming Def Jam debut Medellin after the Colombian city where he was filmed brazenly snorting cocaine in front of cops. He's spoken openly about blowing through $1,500 per week on weed, cocaine, and pills. He's not a role model by any means, but that's often his appeal-- his loose-cannon antics and personal tribulations are inextricable from his artistic success.

"It's exhilarating to move rapidly back and forth between identifying with Gunplay's character and feeling inside of this hyper-violent and visceral world and pulling back to feel something that approaches shock," wrote Mark Richardson, describing the rapper's gunshot-riddled 2012 track "Jump Out". The song, like much of Gunplay's material, is laced with an over-the-top, blood-splattered mania that's nothing less than Tarantino-esque-- it turns something harrowing into something exhilirating. Conversely, watching the rapper hit a man with the butt of his gun on a silent security tape is simply repellent, full stop. As more artists attempt to draw lines between their lives and their work, Gunplay seems set on blurring his worlds further, regardless of consequence. "You can't go through life being afraid," he says. "If you're scared, don't let nobody else know."

"Niggas can say they pop molly, but do you really? I doubt it. I can't imagine Kanye popping a molly."

Pitchfork: How do you reconcile your incredibly raw roots with the prospect of being a rich and famous rapper hanging around rich and famous people all the time? Do you feel like you have a personal duty to stay loyal to your origins?

Gunplay: I've just got to figure it out as I go along. I get myself into some fucked up situations, but I learn from it. As you go higher up in the ladder, you look down, and it's a pretty far fall, so you tend to watch your step a bit more. That's all you can do. It's a full time job not to kill these niggas out here; every day I ask for the strength not to go off the handle and whack one of these stupid cunts. Ross tells me the same old shit: "Quit the dumb shit, let's get this money." When Ross couldn't get through to me, I had to get through to myself. I needed to buckle down, watch my temper, stay focused, work hard.

Pitchfork: Speaking of Rick Ross-- you're someone who's completely transparent. Everything is out there. When you first connected with Ross, were you ever skeptical about his background as a correctional officer?

G: Nah. He can't tell the world exactly why he was a corrections officer, he'll end up being indicted. There are a lot of things that go on behind the scenes that people fail to look at. You don't know what he was doing. And if he sits there and spills the beans, you never know what kind of ramifications could come. And for what? To please these fuck-niggas out here who don't pay his bills and want to see him die? Nah, fuck it. I'll always be riding with my dog, that nigga is 100. Anybody that feels different, they don't know no better.

Problem: "My Last Molly Song Ever I Promise" [ft. Trinidad James and Gunplay]
(via SoundCloud)

Pitchfork: You've done more than a few drugs in your day-- what do you make of the fact that every rapper is talking about taking ecstasy now?

G: Molly's been here in the hip-hop community a while. I have no idea if all these rappers are actually taking it. Just like these rappers who are killing: Are you actually a killer? Did you actually take a life? Did you actually blow a nigga's brains out one time? Did you ever go to jail? Have you actually been in some shit? It's the same shit with molly. Yeah, niggas can say they pop molly, but do you really? I doubt it. I can't imagine Kanye popping a molly.

Pitchfork: You've explained your Swastika tattoo a bunch of different ways at different points. What does it really mean to you?

G: It originally meant peace and love and prosperity; Hitler took it and basically turned something innocent into death and destruction and holocaust. And that's the way society does the youth, the kids, me. We were born with love and happiness, and then look at what you made out of it. You can't judge a book by its cover, though. People think I'm bad because I got tattoos or snort a little cocaine here and there. They think I'm a killer. But what if I wasn't a killer? Then what? Don't be tripping on me. I pay my damn taxes, OK? Chill.

Pitchfork: What's the status of the Def Jam album?

G: We're about halfway finished. It's called Medellin, after the city in Colombia. Very beautiful city, beautiful women. I had a ball last time I went. They said my career was going to be over because I was snorting cocaine on camera there, so I just decided to take it back to Medellin and see what it do.

Pitchfork: Do you have any collaborations in mind for the record?

G: When I get back out, the people I want to get to for features will be more accessible because of my newfound fame. I've reached out to Pusha T. I'm also looking for one with Drake, so I can cater to the bitches.

Pitchfork: What does a Gunplay song for the ladies sound like?

G: It's very simple. If you listen to my feature on Masspike Miles' "Vanilla Texture", I'm talking about cocaine, but you wouldn't know it. I've made it sound like I'm talking about a woman. I'm making another one called "Greedy Love" for the ladies, and I've got one with Wale and Roscoe Dash called "Damn" that I haven't released yet. It's like "No Hands" part two.

Pitchfork: Have you gotten any pressure from Def Jam to tone down the more aggressive aspect of your sound?

G: They know they can't tone it down. They can tell me to-- but will I listen? They signed Gunplay because Gunplay is Gunplay. They don't really want to change my personality. But if they do need a certain sound and record, that's no problem. That's why I'm a professional at what I do. I can make a certain kind of music if need be.

Pitchfork: Can you talk about the song "Bible on the Dash"? That's the gentlest and most introspective we've heard you sound.

G: I wrote that song while I was on the run. When this case happened, I was stuck in a part of my mind where I was asking myself: "Do I want to go back to the streets and handle my business and take care of this problem or do I just keep calm, let everything blow over, and get this money?" So I put the Bible on the dashboard and let God guide me on my road to riches. That's why the hook is like that: "I got a problem and a plan, revolver in my hand/ Tryna keep it cold, y'all won't understand/ That's why I roll with the Bible on the dash." I'm not Christian, but I'm religious. I believe in a higher God and beings and spirits.